Why Not?
by AwkwardFudgeball
Summary: In which Eleven sees Max and Lucas sucking face, and wonders why her and Mike don't do that. TEENAGE Mileven, fluffier than your grandpa's beard, *complete*


**So, I'm _supposed_ to be working on my Mileven drabble collection dealio, and this was actually going to be one of them but I felt like it could have a bit more potential than that. I've seen something like this done a couple times, and I'm trying to make mine different from those. If it's too similar to any other fic, it was not intentional.**

 **Disclaimer:**

High school was tiring. Not so much the work, but the people. Eleven hated having to be surrounded by ten or so mouth breathers (the other ten were alright) seven different times a day.

Fridays were different. Fridays were the light at the end of a dark tunnel. Not only were they the last day between school and a two day break, but Mike usually walked her home (a home with Hopper that _finally_ wasn't that dreadful cabin). So, naturally, when she couldn't find the Wheeler boy even after the bell had rang and the rest of her classmates were well on their way home, she set off the find him.

She knew his tendencies to stick around in the AV room, losing track of time and the ring of the bell not piercing through his headset; that was her first place to look. She could hear someone stirring around behind the door; Mike. She turned the doorknob slowly, as to not disturb him, and opened the door with just as much delicacy. She was surprised that he didn't glance up from his books and look at her, because he usually did.

But a second later, that surprise was because it _definitely_ wasn't Mike occupying the AV room.

It was Max and Lucas. Max was sitting on the desk while Lucas stood in front of her, one hand in her hair and the other resting at her hip. Their lips -or rather their _entire faces_ because that's what it looked like from El's perspective- were pressed together in such a manner that Eleven was sure that it _had_ to be painful.

She moved to close the door before they knew she had caught a glimpse of her face sucking session, but her hand slipped off the knob and it made a distinct click as it jerked back into place. The pair broke apart with a jump and turned to look at Eleven, eyes wide and faces red.

"We were just, uh -" Lucas tried to explain, but El cut him off.

"Kissing," She said, eliminating his need to give an explanation.

"Well, would you look at the time..." Lucas said with a chuckle, pretending to look at his nonexistent watch. El watched as Max gave him a small, thin lipped smile and shook her head.

"Wait, Lucas," Eleven said as the boy was straightening his shirt back out, "Where's Mike?"

It was Max that answered, "He's at the middle school,"

Eleven shot her a questioning look. They were sophomores. What was he doing in a sixth grade classroom?

"Helping out Mr. Clarke," Max explained as she gathered her things.

"Oh," Eleven said. She hoped she remembered where the old science teacher's classroom was. She said a quick goodbye to Max and Lucas before walking across the street to the middle school building.

Turns out, she did remember where the man taught; she found him and Mike picking up the room (apparently there was a situation with a couple students and some chalk that had gotten out of hand).

"Eleanor!" Clarke greeted her as she stepped inside timidly. He still thought her name was Eleanor, but at least he didn't think she was Mike's cousin anymore (that made for a pretty awkward conversation when they had to explain that she was _Dustin's_ cousin when he caught the two kissing last year).

"Hi, Mr. Clarke," Eleven said with a small smile.

"Michael was just helping me out with the aftermath of the Great Chalk Battle Of '86," Mr. Clarke said, gesturing to Mike, who was dutifully sweeping an area of the floor that was coated in white powder, "But I'm sure you two have better things to do. I can get it from here, Mike,"

"No, really Mr. Clarke, it's no trouble. I'm almost -"

"You got most of it. I can get the rest. It's Friday; go have some fun! But not too much fun, if you know what I mean,"

No. Eleven didn't know what he meant.

Mike did, apparently, because he blushed a shocking shade of pink and carefully leaned the broom against the wall.

"Thanks, Mr. Clarke," Mike said, grabbing Eleven's hand as he started towards the doorway, "Have a good weekend,"

The two made their way outside, their hands still firmly clasped together. It was in the early months of autumn, and the leaves crunching under their shoes became the only sound.

"You're quiet today," Mike said. Sure, she was never big on talking, but she usually had something to say, "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," She said, sounding slightly distracted.

And she _was_ distracted. She kept imagining what it would be like to be the one on the desk, with Mike's lips crashing against her own. They'd kissed, yes, but it was always fairly short and _respectful,_ the way Hopper told them they had to keep it. While it was true that Eleven liked the sweet little kisses Mike planted on her, she couldn't deny that the other way seemed nice too. El wondered why on earth they hadn't tried it.

The rest of the walk home, Eleven listened to Mike talk about his day, ignoring the amount of times she caught herself staring at his lips.

At the front door, Mike gave her a hug and started to say, "Bye, El. I'll see you to -"

"Can you stay?"

"What?" Mike asked, taken aback. He knew very well that Hopper didn't allow them alone in the house.

"Can you stay here for a little while?" El repeated, lingering in the doorway.

"El, you know Hopper doesn't like me being here when he's at work,"

"Please," El begged.

She was lucky that Mike was such a sucker for her puppy eyes.

"Okay," Mike said, "I'll stay,"

Mike was folding his coat over the back of a kitchen chair when Eleven spoke.

"Mike?" She sounded apprehensive. She was never this nervous around Mike. It worried him.

"Are you sure everything's okay, El?" He asked.

"How come we don't..." El struggled to find the words, "...kiss more?"

Mike didn't understand. They kissed quite often.

"What do you mean? We kiss all the time,"

Eleven gave a soft sigh and stepped closer to him. She stood on her toes and pressed her mouth to his, pulling back hardly a second later.

"Like that," She said, "Not...more,"

Mike's face burned as he realized what she was talking about. He didn't think she wanted to. He wanted to, of course, but he didn't try anything for fear of crossing even father onto Hopper's bad side.

"I, uh, I don't know," Mike said, "I guess I thought you wouldn't like it,"

Eleven wondered where he even got that notion. But now, the idea was planted in both of their heads and, well -they didn't see why not. Mike had stopped thinking about anything other than El in that moment, staring at her in a manner that made her shiver. They had been subconsciously drifting closer and closer together, now near enough for Mike to feel Eleven's warm, slow breath against his skin. When Eleven bit her lip out of anticipation, he snaked his thin arms around her waist and promptly closed the gap between them.

El marveled at how soft Mike's lips were; they had never touched hers long enough for her to really take it in. Their playful pecks and nips turned into something different -something new. Mike's mouth was moving against her own with an intensity Eleven didn't know he could manage. His hands were pressed firmly on the small of her back, and hers had found their way into his dark mop of hair. God, it felt nice.

When his tongue found passage into her mouth, Eleven didn't know what to think. Her hands, previously running through and tugging on his curls, halted momentarily. She didn't know that was a part of kissing, but she definitely wasn't going to complain.

He lifted the hem of her shirt -slightly- and placed his hands on the exposed curve of her waist. His hands were cold, causing goosebumps to cover her body. They continued like that for quite some time, a tangle of lips and limbs that had migrated to the couch. Eleven was practically on top of Mike when he pulled away.

Their faces were still close, barely an inch apart. A lock of his hair fell and tickled her nose; she tucked it away gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek a little more than she had to. His eyes found her lips, a little bit swollen. His gaze traveled back up, settling on her deep, chocolate brown eyes. Eleven loved the way he looked at her. He stared at her as if her eyes held every magnificent thing in the universe.

"Wow," Mike whispered, the little wisp of air falling on El's cheek. She nestled into him, laying her head on his shoulder.

This didn't last very long, because the turning of the doorknob made them jump apart.

"Shit," Mike said under his breath.

Hopper's eyes fell, first, on the green jacket laid neatly over one of the dining chairs. Second, they fell on the boy who was sitting next to his daughter on the couch.

"Well?" Hopper said, pulling the same chair with Mike's jacket around to face them.

"She needed help with her homework," Mike offered. He wasn't very believable.

Hopper almost laughed. Homework didn't mess up your hair and make your lips swell. He let out a long, slow breath and looked at the wall as if it was going to tell him what the hell he was supposed to say.

"Go home, kid,"

Mike didn't dare protest, although he wanted to.

"Bye, El. Bye, Chief," He said, giving the two a somewhat awkward wave before closing the door behind him.

Mentally cursing himself for being so stupid as to agree to stay behind with Eleven -and also being so damn _giddy_ about it at the same time, Mike's feet started in the direction of his own home.

 **Okay, I have literally never, ever, ever written a kissing scene that was longer than two sentences. But, I really like fics with Mike and El as teenagers and being awkward about taking things half a step further, and I've only seen a few so I had to get it out of my system somehow. Anyway, I hope it doesn't suck.**

 **...**

 **Did you see what I did there?**


End file.
